


out with the old, in with you

by BeckyHarvey29



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, New Year's Resolutions, Pop Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckyHarvey29/pseuds/BeckyHarvey29
Summary: Ian and Mickey are roommates who decide to spend New Year's Eve alone together.





	out with the old, in with you

“Fuck!”

Ian looked up from his phone when the front door slammed shut, and he watched as his best friend stalked towards their fridge to grab a beer. “Bad day?”

Mickey used the bottom of his shirt to twist off the cap of his beer and sent Ian a disgruntled look. “Yeah, you can fuckin’ say that.”

Ian placed his phone down and sat forward, giving his roommate his undivided attention. “What happened? Bad day at work?”

“No,” Mickey snapped, pausing to chug his beer before continuing, “fuckin’ Josh called me to cancel tonight, said he’s hittin’ up some party and wants to go solo or some shit.”

“But isn’t he your boyfriend?" Ian frowned. "Why would he wanna go solo?”

“We’re not fuckin’ boyfriends, we were just foolin’ around,” Mickey said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It just fuckin’ sucks because now my plans are screwed, and it’s, like, four hours until midnight.” 

Ian scrubbed a hand down his face, not knowing how to react to any of it. He knew Mickey was down-playing the whole thing, considering he and Josh had been ‘fooling’ around for a little over three months, and the two had been practically inseparable (much to Ian’s secret chagrin.) “Why don’t you come with me to that party I’m going to tonight?” Ian suggested. “It'll be fun, there's gonna be a keg.”

“You want me to come hang out with you and all your weird-ass friends?” Mickey asked with a scoff. “No, thanks.”

Ian smirked. “They’re not weird, they’re just… eccentric.”

“They’re fuckin’ weird, and you’re weird for hangin’ out with them.”

Ian laughed and stood up. He shrugged and headed towards their small kitchen where Mickey was still standing. He brushed past Mickey a little to open the fridge, their bodies brushing in the small space. Like always, he appeared completely unaffected by Mickey’s close proximity. He’d gotten pretty good at that over the past two years. “They’re into art, didn’t know art was weird,” he said as he grabbed a bottle of water and shut the fridge.

“Whatever, man, I’m not going,” Mickey said as he took his beer and walked to their small living room to plop down on their couch. They’d found the piece of shit a few months ago on a corner, waiting to be picked up with the rest of the trash. It was threadbare and smelled a little like old fruit, but it was comfy, and it was theirs. 

“So, what’re you gonna do, then?" Ian asked with a sigh. "Sit here all night and sulk?”

“I don’t fuckin’ sulk.”

Ian smirked and plopped down next to Mickey, the old couch creaking under his weight. “You’re sulking.” He sipped at his water and then looked over to find Mickey watching him. “What?”

“Aren’t you goin’ with someone, anyway?” Mickey asked, trepidatiously. “Don’t wanna be a third fuckin’ wheel.” 

“It’s not a date or anything, we’re just hangin’ out,” Ian said with a shrug. He’d met Brian a couple weeks ago at the bar he worked at. The two struck up an easy conversation, exchanged numbers, and they were taking things slow, getting to know each other. They'd been on a couple of quasi-dates, but they hadn’t even kissed yet. Ian wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe that night at midnight could be their first. What better night to have your first kiss than New Year's Eve?

“No, thanks,” Mickey said, turning his attention towards the TV. “I’ll just sit here and drink a six-pack and jerk off before bed.”

"So, a typical night, then?"

Mickey shot him the finger.

Ian laughed before saying, “Mickey, you can’t be alone on New Year’s Eve.”

“The fuck I can’t.”

Ian sighed and shook his head, deciding to leave it at that. Mickey was stubborn, and there really was no use in arguing with him. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t invite you.”

Mickey hummed against the mouth of his bottle, and then they settled into amicable silence.

  


* * *

  


A few hours later, Ian exited their small bathroom and found Mickey lounging on the couch in a henley and pajama pants, a six-pack of beer and a bowl of chips sitting in front of him. Ian sighed as he walked to stand in front of his friend. “Are you seriously gonna sit here all night by yourself?”

“Do you mind?” Mickey snapped, trying to angle his head to see around Ian. “I’m tryin’ to watch something here.”

“Mickey, go get dressed,” Ian ordered. “I’m not lettin’ you sit here by yourself.” 

Mickey looked up at Ian, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. “Oh, yeah? Whatchu gonna do about it, tough guy?”

Ian stared down at Mickey, thinking to himself that Mickey Milkovich was the most stubborn fucking person he’d ever met in his life. It really was fucking ridiculous and made no sense at all, that he was head over heels in love with him. “Fine,” he conceded after a brief stare-down. “If you’re not goin’ anywhere tonight, then I’m not goin’ anywhere tonight.”

Mickey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

Ian shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over the back of the couch before sitting down. He propped his legs on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankles. After grabbing the remote from Mickey’s lap, he answered, “Just what I said, if you’re not going out, I’m not going out.” 

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid, Ian,” Mickey retorted. “Of course you’re goin’ out. Fuckin’ Ken doll will be here in twenty minutes to pick your ass up.”

Ian laughed. Mickey had made it no secret that he didn’t think very much of Ian’s quasi-boyfriend. Ian wasn’t sure why Mickey didn’t like Brian, just that he didn’t. Ian didn’t question it; Mickey didn’t really like anyone. 

“I don’t have to go,” Ian said as he channel-surfed. “I can text him and tell him not to come. It's not a big deal.”

“Come on, man, don’t be an ass,” Mickey said, snatching the remote from Ian’s hand. “You know this is a big night for you two, aren’t you gonna, like, hold hands and spread out a little blanket and kiss when the ball drops? Don’t let me stand in the way of that.”

Ian laughed and looked over at his friend. “You’re such a dick, you know that?”

Mickey stared back, his Adam’s apple bobbing, all joking seemingly aside. “You know you wanna go with him.”

Ian shrugged as if it was the easiest decision in the world to make, which it was. “I’d much rather stay here with you.” 

Mickey held Ian’s gaze for a few more seconds before looking away. “The fuck ever, man. Don’t expect to get a fuckin’ kiss at midnight or anything.”

“That’s okay,” Ian said, smiling gently as he settled in to watch Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve with Mickey, the only person he did truly want to spend New Year's Eve with, even if Mickey didn’t believe it.

  


* * *

  


After texting Brian and lying, saying he’d come down with some sort of cold and was staying in, Ian grabbed a second six-pack from the fridge and resettled next to Mickey to watch the show. 

“Fuckin’ New Kids on the Block, man,” Mickey muttered as he took a drag from his joint and handed it off to Ian. “What year is it?”

Ian laughed as he accepted the joint. He took a deep hit and held the smoke in his lungs, ignoring the jolt he’d felt when his fingers had grazed against Mickey’s. He watched the TV as the boy band danced and played it up for the crowd. “They still look good, though.”

“Yeah, you would fuckin’ think so,” Mickey said with a snort. “You’re into those preppy douchebags.” 

Ian laughed and handed the joint back to Mickey. “I’m not into preppy guys.” 

“Bullshit,” Mickey retorted, laughing. His mood seemed to be much better now that he had three beers and some weed in his system. “Brian is about as preppy as they fuckin’ come.”

“Oh! Oh!” Ian exclaimed. “And fuckin’ Josh is any better?”

Mickey coughed a little and looked away. “Man, fuck Josh.”

Ian studied Mickey's profile. Normally he didn’t like to delve too much into Mickey’s personal business, knowing Mickey liked his privacy, but he figured since it was New Year’s and all, and Mickey was a little drunk and in a good mood, that maybe he could get away with some wayward questions. “So, you really liked Josh, huh? Didn't realize it was that serious.”

Mickey rubbed at his eye and shrugged, his eyes still focused on the TV. “Nah, he was a good lay, a good time, but it wasn’t like that. I wasn’t, like, attached to his ass or anything.”

“Right,” Ian said, looking at the TV and bringing his beer to his mouth. “Forgot you don’t get attached.” 

Ian didn’t see it, but Mickey turned to look at Ian when he’d said that, his gaze sliding over Ian’s profile before looking away.

“Nah,” Mickey said, his tone soft. “Gettin’ attached brings nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble.” 

Ian swallowed hard and continued watching the TV, wondering if he’d made a mistake staying home with a newly-single and buzzed Mickey. He was afraid he’d finally end up saying or doing something stupid. It was starting to get really hard to control his urges around Mickey, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he truly fucked up.

They watched the show for a few more minutes before Mickey got up to retrieve more weed from a kitchen drawer. When he sat back down, he was even closer to Ian, his legs spread a little further apart, his knee pressed against Ian’s. “So, was Ken doll mad that you bailed on him?”

“No,” Ian said, trying to ignore how close Mickey was and failing. He curled his hands in his lap, vowing to keep his hands to himself. “He was cool about it. It’s not like we’re serious or anything.”

Mickey hummed as he licked the rolling paper and rolled the joint into a tight torpedo. He lit it before asking his next question. “So, the two of you haven’t banged yet, huh?” 

Ian was a little taken aback by the question. Mickey had never questioned his sexual life before, they usually kept that shit to themselves. He lifted his butt a little and tugged at the knees of his jeans to get more comfortable before answering, “No, we’re takin’ things slow. I'm tryin’ something different instead of just jumpin’ in bed with a guy.” 

“Must be hell on the guy,” Mickey intoned as he inhaled the joint and held the smoke in his lungs.

Ian watched him, wondering just what Mickey meant by that. “What, you think I’m being a tease?”

“Nah, man,” Mickey said through a plume of smoke as he exhaled. “Just think it must be hard on the guy, gettin’ to be with you, but not actually gettin’ to _be_ with you.” Mickey then must have realized what he said because he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, forget I said that. This is some primo shit, I’m lettin’ it get to my head.” 

Ian swallowed thickly and looked back at the TV. He could allow Mickey to blame his loose lips on the weed, but Ian didn’t want to do that. He wanted to see where the conversation would lead even if it could end up being a big fucking mistake. “Yeah, I know how that is,” he said, his tone careful. “Bein’ around someone constantly and not being able to touch ‘em.”

On the screen, Shawn Mendes crooned, filling the otherwise awkward silence.

Mickey didn’t say anything, only stared at the TV, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Ian looked away and then stood up, realizing he’d overstepped a line. He needed to get away, at least for a few minutes. “I’m gonna go change into something more comfortable.” Ian silently chastised himself for the lame-ass line.

“Yeah, don’t know how your balls breathe in those fuckin’ things,” Mickey said, looking up at Ian, his face illuminated by the blue light from the TV, and a small smile tugging at his lips. 

Ian was secretly relieved that Mickey didn’t seem to have taken any offense to anything Ian had said. He made his way to his small bedroom and changed out of his skinny jeans and tugged on a t-shirt and cotton pajama pants. He hesitated and grabbed a couple of things from his nightstand before rejoining Mickey on the couch.

Mickey looked up when Ian returned, his eyes dropping to take in Ian’s new attire before his eyes focused on the objects in Ian’s hand. “The fuck’re those?”

“Noisemakers and hats I picked up earlier to take to the party,” Ian said as he handed one of each to Mickey. "Here," he said as he settled back on the couch.

“You’re so fuckin’ lame,” Mickey said as he begrudgingly took the sparkly purple hat and put it on. He brought the noisemaker to his mouth and blew it close to Ian’s face, the thing uncurling and bopping Ian on the nose.

Ian laughed and placed his own hat on. He was sitting close to Mickey again, maybe even closer than before. “Who else is performing tonight?” he asked as he leaned forward to grab some chips from the bowl in front of them. He was intent on steering the conversation into much safer territory.

“A bunch of gay fucks.”

“Oh, my cup of tea, then.”

Mickey chortled and sipped at his beer.  

Ian snuck a sideways glance at Mickey and looked away, not wanting to get caught staring. “So, what’s your New Year’s resolution, Mick?”

“Fuck resolutions, man,” Mickey retorted. “They don’t mean shit, just a buncha promises people pull outta their asses and go back on the very next day.”

Ian smirked and bumped his shoulder against Mickey’s, his eyebrows lifting in amusement. “Humor me, huh?”

Mickey stared back at him before rolling his eyes. “So lame.”

“Yeah, you said that about a minute ago.”

“Doesn’t make it any less fuckin’ true,” Mickey shot back. He then sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know, man. I guess I never really thought about having a resolution. I sure the fuck ain’t quittin’ smokin’ or drinking. Not giving up food. What else do people give up?”

“I don’t know,” Ian answered. “Heavy spending, bad relationships, gross habits.”

“Fine, bad relationships, I guess,” Mickey said with a wave of his hand.

“Josh was a bad relationship?”

“He didn’t fuckin’ want me, did he?”

“That’s because he was a fucking idiot,” Ian said before fully thinking it through. He knew he should tread lightly with the sentimental crap, knowing that Mickey could and would leave the room at any time if he got too uncomfortable.

Mickey tongued the inside of his cheek as he stared down at his beer bottle. He then lifted his eyes and stared into Ian’s. He didn’t look uncomfortable at all, much to Ian's surprise. “What about you?” he asked after a pause. “What’s your New Year’s resolution?”

Ian stared back, feeling a weird shift in the air. He knew he should just say something superficial and cliche, but instead, he found himself saying, “I wanna start tellin’ people I care about how much I care about them.”

Mickey finally looked away and brought his beer to his lips. He took a sip and tugged his bottom lip into his mouth before releasing it. “Who, Brian? Didn’t know you cared about him so much only after a couple weeks. You didn’t even get dick yet.”

“I don’t care about his dick,” Ian said with a smirk. His voice then grew softer as he studied Mickey's profile, “and I’m not talkin’ about Brian.”

Mickey sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and nodded as he looked down at his lap. After a loaded pause, he asked, “Who you talkin’ about, then?”

Ian swallowed hard and was about to open his mouth to lay it all out there, once and for all, when there was a knock on the door. “Who the fuck?” he asked with a frown as he stood up and walked to the door. He opened it to find Brian standing in the hallway, a small smile on his face. “Brian… hey.”

“Surprise.”

Ian glanced over his shoulder and then looked back at Brian. Brian was a really nice guy, and Ian liked him well enough, but right then, he fucking hated him. That was the closest he’d ever gotten to telling Mickey how he felt, and Brian had probably just pushed them back a few dozen steps. Ian knew it was going to take a lot to get back to that point with Mickey. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you said you were sick, so I didn’t feel right going to the party without you,” Brian said, holding up a bag he’d brought with him. “I stopped at the store and got you some medicine. You probably have some already, but… is it okay that I’m here?”

Ian pursed his lips and finally nodded, knowing he couldn’t turn Brian away, no matter how much he wanted to at the moment. And, when it all came down to it, Brian showing up was probably a good thing; it had probably saved him from making a complete and total fool out of himself. “Yeah, of course it’s okay, come in.” He stepped aside and allowed Brian to enter. “Sorry about the mess, didn’t know we’d have company.”

“I don’t care about the mess,” Brian said as he stepped inside. 

Ian closed the door behind them and looked over at Mickey who was blankly watching the television. “It’s cool that Brian’s here, right?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey said, not bothering to look in their direction. “Yeah, all cool. I was about to head to bed, anyway. Got an early shift in the morning.”

“You don’t wanna hang out with us?” Ian asked as he watched Mickey stand up. “The ball drops in an hour.”

“Nah, man, it’s cool,” Mickey assured as he grabbed his smokes and started heading towards his room. “Hang out with Ken doll. It’s the way your night was supposed to end anyway, right?”

“Ken doll?” Brian grumbled from beside him.

Ian didn’t pay Brian any mind, he just watched as Mickey disappeared into his room. He rubbed a hand down his face, trying to ignore the immense disappointment he felt at Mickey’s dismissal. Mickey was perfectly fine with Brian being there. Of course he was.

Brian was shrugging out of his jacket and heading towards the couch, plopping down in Mickey’s spot and reaching for the chips. “Oh, Camila Cabello, I love her.”

Ian stared at Brian a little disdainfully before walking over and reluctantly joining him on the couch.

  


* * *

  


Mickey rested on his bed over the covers and stared up through the darkness at his ceiling. He could hear the vague sounds of Ian and his date talking, and Dick Clark’s party going on without him in the living room. He didn’t know why he cared so much. Ian was hanging out with Brian. Brian was who Ian had been intent on hanging out with in the beginning. He should be happy for his friend; he should be happy that Ian was finally going to get kissed that night, maybe even laid. 

He scrubbed a hand down his face and swore into his hand, silently berating himself to get a fucking grip. He remembered the hat on his head and reached up to tug it off before throwing it across the room. He didn’t feel like celebrating shit anymore. He glanced at his bedside table to read the time.  11:31.

He vaguely wondered what Josh was doing at the moment, and who he was doing it with. He was a little surprised to realize he didn’t really care as much as he should have. He was more concerned about what his roommate was saying and doing in the other room.

“Fuck,” he swore before rolling over onto his side, hoping the weed and beer would kick in a little more, and hoping he would pass out quickly. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the music coming from the other room, and the sounds of laughter and partying coming from the asshole neighbors.

Just as Mickey was starting to doze off, there was a knock on the door, and he opened his eyes. The clock read 11:51. He rolled onto his back. “Come in.” 

The door cracked opened, and Ian stuck his head in. “Hey, you sleepin’?”

“I was,” Mickey snapped, trying to sound more irritated than he was.

“Wanted to see if maybe you wanted to come back out, the ball’s about to drop.”

“I already told you, I don’t wanna hang out with you and your fuckin’ boy toy, I’m good.”

“Brian left.”

“The fuck d’you mean he left?” Mickey retorted. “It’s not even midnight yet.”

“Will you just quit bein’ stubborn for once and get your ass out here?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and sat up, curiosity getting the best of him. He completely ignored the elation he felt at the fact that Brian had left. He followed Ian into the living room and sat back down on the couch. He looked over at Ian, his eyebrows high, waiting. “So, you gonna tell me what fuckin’ happened?” he asked when Ian didn’t say anything right away.

Ian rubbed his palms over his pajama pants and then looked at Mickey, his stare soft. “I told Brian to leave.”

“What the fuck for?”

“Because I had something I had to take care of.”

Mickey frowned. On the TV, some singer Mickey didn’t recognize sang about new love and new beginnings. “What's that even mean?” 

“It means,” Ian began, visibly swallowing. “It means there’s someone else I wanna kiss when the ball drops.”

Mickey stared back, his heart pounding in his throat. “Old Mr. Davis across the hall?” he finally said. “I can go knock on his door, see if he’s still up?”

“No, you asshole,” Ian said, laughing. “Not old Mr. Davis across the hall.”

“Not old Mr. Davis, huh?” Mickey asked, his eyes dropping to Ian’s mouth, the same mouth that had teased him for the past two years. The same mouth he’d dreamt about tasting, the same mouth he’d dreamt about wrapped around his dick. The same mouth that knew just what words to say to irritate him, the same smart mouth that knew how to banter with him. The same mouth that didn’t put up with any of Mickey’s shit, ever. The mouth he was in love with, so fucking in love with. 

He lifted his eyes to meet Ian’s. He let out a breathy, "Fuck," and then, “Wanna kiss you, too, c'mere.”

Ian surged forward and kissed him. 

Mickey moaned as Ian’s mouth covered his, and he sank back further in the cushions when Ian straddled him. He smiled against Ian’s mouth when his tongue licked at the seam of his lips, and they both groaned when their tongues finally touched. 

“Mickey,” Ian gasped into Mickey’s mouth before kissing him with all the tender passion he’d had built up. His body was trembling as Mickey kissed him back just as hard.

Mickey placed his hands on Ian’s hips, his fingers clutching at the soft, cotton material of Ian’s pajama bottoms. Fuck, he wanted those pants off, right fucking then, but he knew they weren’t ready for any of that yet. Not without having a conversation first.

Ian pulled away from the kiss after a few minutes, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths, and he pressed his forehead against Mickey’s. “The ball didn’t even drop yet.”

“Does it fuckin’ matter?” Mickey rasped, his eyes still closed as he smoothed his hands up Ian’s back and down again. With his hands once again on Ian’s hips, he rubbed his thumbs under Ian’s shirt, needing to feel whatever bare skin he could. 

Ian pulled back a little, enough to look in Mickey’s eyes. He swallowed visibly as his eyes searched Mickey’s face. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Mickey said, his voice thick. “It’s okay.”

Ian nodded and leaned back in to tap his forehead to Mickey’s. “I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no fuckin’ idea.” 

Mickey closed his eyes and licked his lips, wanting to kiss Ian again, but allowing him to talk.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been to keep this from you.”

“I think I have an idea,” Mickey said without really thinking about it. He then watched as Ian pulled away to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed. He laughed and quirked an eyebrow. “The fuck’s that look for?”

“What d’you mean, you have an idea what it’s like?”

On the TV, Ryan Seacrest and Jenny McCarthy were announcing the ball drop that was going to happen in less than a minute.

“It means, I know… what you went through,” Mickey answered, his tone measured. He paused, smiling a little at Ian’s confused expression. His eyebrows lifted, and he continued, his words enunciated so Ian would get it, “Because I went through it, too.”

“You went through it, too,” Ian repeated, his eyes falling to Mickey’s lips. On the TV, the hosts and the crowd counted down as the ball made its sparkling descent. 

“I’m in love with you, Ian.”

_Seven._

“You’re in-”

_Six._

“In love with you? Yeah.”

_Five._

“You’re in love with me?”

_Four._

“How many times d’you want me to say it, asshole?” Mickey retorted with a laugh before he was silenced with another kiss. 

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

Ian pulled back as the crowd on the TV cheerfully sang Auld Lang Syne. His eyes searched Mickey’s, and then he smiled when he realized Mickey was being completely and wholeheartedly honest with him. There was no doubt in Mickey's eyes, no sign that it was a joke. He reached up and grabbed his hat from his head and placed it on Mickey’s head. “I'm in love with you, too,” he muttered before leaning in and kissing Mickey again, that time slow and tender and full of promises. 

When they pulled apart a minute later, Mickey muttered, “They, um, they say you should ring in the new year doing the one thing you wanna keep doin’ in the new year, or some shit. I don’t really remember the saying.”

“Oh, really?” Ian asked, smirking as he cupped his hands around Mickey’s face and smoothed his thumbs over his cheeks. “They say that, huh?”

“Yeah, they do.”

“What d’you wanna do, then?”

“I can think of a few things I'd like to do,” Mickey muttered as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over Ian’s lips. He angled his head and pressed a soft, moist kiss against Ian’s throat.

“Hope it’s the same things I’m thinkin’ about,” Ian stuttered as he angled his head to give Mickey better access to his neck. He took a chance and slowly began rutting against Mickey.

Mickey sighed and swore against Ian’s neck as their hardening cocks rubbed through their pajama pants. “Sure fuckin’ seems like it,” he muttered against Ian’s warm, flushed skin. “Does it involve one of our beds?”

“Hell, yeah, it does,” Ian said before crawling off Mickey’s lap. 

“Good,” Mickey said as he shot to his feet. He wrapped his hand around the nape of Ian’s neck and pulled him in for a messy kiss, their tongues tangling as they reached for each other’s shirts. They pulled back to pull the garments over their heads before reaching for each other again. “C’mon,” Mickey breathed, grabbing Ian’s arm. “C'mon, don’t wanna fuckin’ wait anymore.”

Outside, someone was lighting off fireworks, causing streaks of color to dance across the room and across their naked upper bodies. 

Ian followed Mickey into his bedroom and watched with hungry eyes as Mickey undressed. Once they were both naked, Ian pulled Mickey to him and kissed him again. He groaned and pulled away from the kiss to sprinkle soft, loving kisses against Mickey’s bare shoulder. “Fuckin’ finally,” he mumbled. 

Mickey carded his fingers through Ian’s hair and sighed contentedly. He watched with hooded eyes as Ian dropped to his knees and wrapped a hand around his dick. His fingers stayed in Ian’s hair as he watched Ian nose at his balls and pubic hair, breathing him in. 

Ian pressed a kiss to Mickey’s hip before engulfing Mickey’s dick as far as he could without choking. He reached around and grabbed two handfuls of Mickey’s ass, holding him in place as he bobbed his mouth on his cock, already tasting the tang of Mickey’s pre-come at the back of his throat. He brought one hand around and rolled Mickey’s ballsack between his fingers, loving the moans spilling from Mickey’s lips.

“Shit, Ian,” Mickey muttered as he pressed his hand against Ian’s throat, feeling his dick there. “You’re fuckin’ amazing.”

Ian moaned around him and kept sucking Mickey off with gusto. He reached down and stroked his own dick, knowing it wasn't going to take much to get him off. Just knowing that he was making Mickey feel good turned him on more than anything ever had. 

“C’mere,” Mickey mumbled, lightly tugging Ian’s hair, motioning for Ian to stop. 

Ian looked up at him through the semi-darkness, his mouth swollen, and his chin wet with spit. He stood up on shaky legs with Mickey’s help and moaned when Mickey kissed him hard. Their tongues tangled through the taste of Mickey. 

Mickey pressed a hand to Ian’s chest and pushed him backward on the bed. 

Ian stared up at Mickey as the lights from the fireworks from outside continued to dance across Mickey’s naked body. The neighbors were being extra fucking loud, but he wasn’t going to allow that to ruin the moment, their moment. “Mick.” 

“Shh, gonna take care of you,” Mickey said as he kept his eyes locked with Ian’s. He retrieved the lube and condoms from the bedside table. He knelt down on the bed and, without warning, leaned in and took as much of Ian’s cock in his mouth as he could, choking when he was a little too ambitious. He pulled back to gasp for air before going back in. He sucked Ian off, hands-free, as he lubed up his index and middle finger. He pressed and twisted his fingers inside himself, getting himself ready.

Ian was a breathless, blubbering mess beneath him, and Mickey would have smiled in smug satisfaction if not for the monster cock in his mouth. “Mick,” Ian whined, but he didn’t go much further than that. They both knew what he wanted.

Mickey pulled away from sucking Ian’s cock and removed his fingers from his ass. He locked eyes with Ian and stared at him intently as he used his lubed-up hand to roll the condom on Ian’s dick. He then stroked Ian a few more times, lubing him up liberally, before positioning himself over him. He reached behind and gripped Ian’s dick, rubbing the head against his hole a few times. “Fuck, man.” 

Ian grabbed Mickey’s hips and waited, his heart hammering the entire time. He groaned when Mickey finally began to sink down, taking Ian’s dick inch by inch.

When he was fully seated, Mickey groaned and braced his hands against Ian’s flushed chest. “I’ve dreamt about this,” he said, his voice breathless. 

“Me too,” Ian gasped. “You’re perfect, Mickey.” 

Mickey leaned forward and kissed Ian sweetly on the mouth before sitting back, preparing to give Ian the ride of his life. He began lifting off Ian’s dick and sank back down, pulling breathy groans from them both. He set a slow, shallow pace, just barely fucking himself on Ian’s cock. With one hand still braced on Ian’s chest, he moved his arm back and braced his other hand on Ian’s upper thigh. He began fucking himself on Ian’s cock with renewed vigor. “Fuck.”

Ian planted his feet on the mattress and bucked up, meeting Mickey thrust for thrust. He wrapped his hand around Mickey’s cock, but his hand was quickly swatted away.

“Not yet,” Mickey breathed. “Don’t want it to fuckin’ end yet.”

Ian laughed a little through his pleasure. “What, you think this is the one and only time we’re doin’ this?”

“Fuck you,” Mickey retorted as he continued riding Ian steadily. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way we’re not doin’ this again.”

Ian settled his hands on Mickey’s hips again and watched as Mickey rode him. Their eyes locked and held through the intensity of it all. 

“Love your… love your cock,” Mickey panted, sounding completely wrecked. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Ian groaned, holding out, wanting Mickey to come first, needing Mickey to come first. 

“Ian,” Mickey nearly sobbed, his thrusting becoming erratic. “Fuck, Ian, touch me, now.”

Ian wasted no time wrapping his fingers around Mickey’s bouncing cock and stroking him.

“Fuck, yeah,” Mickey whined, tossing his head back. “Right there, right fuckin’ there. I’m gonna come.”

“Mickey,” Ian cried out, unable to stop himself. He came hard, his body shuttering as he emptied himself inside the condom. He tightened his grip on Mickey’s dick and tugged harder, wanting Mickey to come all over his stomach and chest. Mickey was going to become very aware of how much of a cum-slut Ian was, if Ian had anything to say about it. 

“Fuck,” Mickey sputtered, and then he froze, his mouth agape as he came, his come spurting across Ian’s bare chest and landing a little on his chin. He rode out his orgasm until he couldn’t take it anymore, and then he carefully lifted off Ian’s dick and collapsed next to him. “Holy fuck,” he swore towards the ceiling. He then laughed and ran a hand over his sweaty face. He glanced over at Ian, his eyes taking in the come on Ian’s chin. Without thinking much about it, he leaned in and lapped at the come on Ian’s face before licking towards his mouth, tongue-kissing Ian through the taste. 

After a few minutes, Mickey rolled on his back and motioned for Ian to come closer. “C’mere,” he said, lifting his arm to allow Ian to lay against his chest. He pressed a kiss to Ian’s sweaty forehead, letting his lips linger. “You alright?”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Ian rasped, still breathless and trembling. “I’m better than alright.”

“Are _we_ alright?” 

Ian was silent for a few heartbeats before asking, “Is there a ‘we’?” He could feel Mickey smiling against his forehead. 

“Of course there’s a ‘we’, the fuck kinda question is that?” Mickey snarked, his fingertips idling brushing against Ian’s bare shoulder. 

Ian laughed and lifted his head to kiss Mickey softly, tenderly. “Yeah, we're alright. Happy New Year, Mick.” 

"Happy New Year, Ian," Mickey muttered back before his eyes fluttered closed, Ian's mouth once again on his.


End file.
